


Snap Out Of It

by trollprincess



Category: The Almighty Johnsons
Genre: F/M, Kink Meme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-05
Updated: 2013-03-05
Packaged: 2017-12-04 09:39:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/709300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trollprincess/pseuds/trollprincess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the goddess ceremony goes tits up, Anders doesn't want to get into it with Gaia because of Axl's feelings for her, even if his body disagrees with that decision. Gaia, however, has other ideas. Spawned from a prompt on the kink meme.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snap Out Of It

Axl isn't speaking to him. 

You'd think it wouldn't be the worst thing Anders has to deal with right now considering all of the hassle with the police investigation into Helen's murder. But with security footage from the lobby showing Natalie carrying a crossbow into the building and Dawn's testimony about her strange cold demeanor during her dealings with them both, the police are treating Helen's murder as a simple case of an unstable woman's jealous rage. The only reason the case seems to still be open is that the police can't locate Natalie. But since they're never going to find anything more than a dash of ashes in the woods, if that, Anders isn't surprised. And he didn't even have to use his poetry.

They still have to worry about hunters showing up, though. That should be more concerning than it is, although Anders supposes the liquor is helping him some.

Axl not speaking to him, though … that hurts more than he thought it would. He feels personally offended, like he wants to storm over to that dump Axl calls an apartment, corner the enormous bastard, and point out that he didn't kill Helen, he didn't ask for her to be killed, he didn't want Idunn to end up in another woman's body, and he sure as hell didn't want Idunn to end up in Gaia. Which he's sure Axl already knows, but the stupid fuckwit is still angry over the surprise fuck-up at Gaia's goddess ceremony, and he can't direct his anger at the universe. He needs a target, and Anders is as good a target as any.

Anders imagines that Gaia sleeping on his couch isn't helping matters any.

“You sure you don't want to go home?” he asks, leaning against the wall next to his fishtank.

Gaia doesn't look up from the candle she's lighting in the center of the dining room table. A soft smile graces her lips like a butterfly breath, light and airy and warming. She pads in her bare feet around the table, arranging napkins, straightening silverware, then removing a bottle of wine from the sink. She doesn't tear her gaze from the bottle as she removes the cork, her fingers deft and quick. “Do you want me to go home?” she finally says.

He shrugs. On the one hand, their respective destined pathways just crossed with a spectacular crash, and Gaia and his brother have to face their issues, preferably sooner rather than later so everybody can fucking relax already. Plus, no matter how many (admittedly delicious) vegetarian dishes she makes or how much down-tempo music she plays when he comes home from work, the image of Helen's dead body on his kitchen floor still haunts his apartment. It's like the police never took the body away, just leaving it on his floor to slowly fade to nothingness, the persistent outline of its insubstantial form tempting him to trip over an empty space every time he goes to make himself a bloody sandwich.

On the other hand, he thinks as he watches the barely-there sway of Gaia's hips under the fabric of her black tank dress, his chest feels like it's on fire every time he looks at her. He's known Gaia for as long as she and Axl have flatted together, this bland little sparrow in knits and ruffles who passed around the edges of his field of vision. He vaguely remembers calling her “Axl's drippy girlfriend,” and a bucketful of hot guilt douses his ardor for the briefest flicker of a moment. 

The reminder of his little brother out there, pining for Gaia and presumably drinking everything in sight with his irritating stick figure of a flatmate, reminds him why he's kept her at arm's length for the past two weeks. Ever since she packed a bag and slipped past him into his apartment, babbling something about her apartment being the Asgard of awkward and would it be all right to sleep on his couch or preferably his bed, Anders has been clinging to his one surviving tendril of responsible adulthood. He denied her access to his bed, gritting his teeth and thanking the universe or whatever that at least one of his powers wasn't that his cock could speak up in protest. 

He still let her take the couch, though.

Gaia is most definitely not his type. She's small and light, a starved little bird draped in earthen tones. He feels like Olaf adopted another fucking hippie from a shelter or something, then left her behind so she's Anders' responsibility, and now he's starting to grow attached even though he keeps forgetting when he last ate meat. 

Somewhere in the middle of his tangled thoughts, Gaia appears, holding two glasses of wine. She holds one out to him. “Here, take this and drink it. Maybe then you won't be so quiet for a change.”

“I'm not quiet,” he grumbles, but knocks it back just the same. He hasn't been quiet since the day he first learned how to talk, for fuck's sake. That's all on Gaia, fluttering around his apartment like a happy parakeet he can't quite catch. This whole situation has knocked the vocabulary right out of him.

She laughs, bell-like, and says, “Quiet for you, then,” before taking a healthy sip of her own champagne. 

She turns and drifts over to the dining room table again, and out of reflex Anders follows her, pulling out her chair like a gentleman. “Thank you,” she says. Not in that cloying flirtatious way Helen would say it, but soft and genuine. She lifts her gaze to him, smiling, and he tears his gaze away before he can return him.

It's possible this is killing him.

By the time he sits across from her, pulling himself up to a steaming plate of veggie stir fry and poking it with his fork, Gaia is almost ready to explode. She clenches her jaw as he tries the stir fry and makes a pleased sound, chewing slowly to relish the flavors. Gaia pokes at her own plate of food, not the least bit hungry, at least not for her father's ( _kidnapper_ , her mind supplies bitterly) special stir fry recipe or the expensive wine she liberated from Anders's stash. 

What's she hungry for, what she's been hungry for since her goddess ceremony, is something a bit more substantial. And Anders, the abruptly glimmering knight in shining armor that he wants to be, just won't give it to her.

It's possible this is killing her.

“Anders, please speak to me,” she blurts out. 

He stares at her over the rim of his wine glass. “About what?” he asks, feigning innocence. It fits badly on him, like a suit in need of tailoring.

She waves her hand in the air. “The weather. The netball scores. How much you want to fuck me. I'm not picky.”

She's surprised Anders doesn't spray wine across the table. He comes close, however, choking on it with a sputter that nearly makes her laugh. She likes teasing him, she's learned, like pushing his buttons at random and seeing what happens. “Well, you've certainly become blunt,” he mutters. He licks his lips, his tongue chasing droplets of wine, and she stifles a moan.

Gaia leans back in her seat, crossing in her arms. She's probably starting to look petulant, but she can't bring herself to care.

The first few days, she was a trial. She knows this in the same way she knows her attraction to Anders isn't simply the proud result of Idunn's mental prodding. Idunn was too full those first days, too fresh and sharp in her mind. Idunn drove her demands and wants like a spoiled child throwing a particularly nasty strop. Idunn wanted apples and warmth, love and the hearth, Bragi and Bragi and Bragi once again. But before long she stopped overwhelming Gaia's sense, simply simmered like a good rich broth on the backburner, ever-present and smelling like divine temptation. Gaia didn't know if it was like that with every other god and goddess, if that mental disconnect held true. But Gaia felt Idunn like a shadow in her head, her shadow but not her shadow, behaving but misbehaving all at once.

It hasn't stopped her from wanting Anders, though. Not by a long shot.

“I was blunt before all this, you know,” she remarks casually. “Just ask Axl.”

He tenses a little at the mention of his younger brother's name. “Axl isn't speaking to me. Or have you forgotten?”

“No, you aren't speaking to Axl,” she says. She understands why, of course – Anders has been blaming himself for this insane supernatural fuck-up since day one – but it's so odd to see him this way. She may not have spoken with Anders longer than it took to direct him toward Axl's room before all of this happened. But even she knew guilt didn't hang well on him, especially for something that wasn't his fault.

Anders laughs, the sound harsh and hurtful. “There's a difference?”

Leaning forward, Gaia rests her folded arms on the table and asks, “Have you called him?”

He stares at her as though she'd suggested he try disarming a nuclear weapon with his toes. “Why bother?”

“So you're so sure he's not speaking to you that you're not going to call him and prove it.”

“Gaia, he's mad at me. He's not going to –“

“Again, you're so sure he's mad at you that you're not going to call him and prove it.”

Anders's brow furrows, and a suspicious smile twists his lips. “Have you been talking to him?”

Gaia shrugs. She did quit her job, after all. She's had plenty of time to get her affairs in order, so to speak. “I've been talking to lots of people. Axl, Mike, Ingrid, Michele …” Everyone keeps tripping over themselves to answer her questions. It's almost comforting, which she supposes is the whole point of it all. The universe fucked up, and now she's Idunn. It feels like everyone wants to apologize for that somehow.

No more so than Anders, of course.

Anders levels his gaze at her for a long moment, tracing the lip of his wine glass with one finger. “Aren't you a chatty Cathy?” he murmurs.

“I did want to talk to my husband, but apparently I'm not allowed,” she says, every word dripping with sarcasm. Anders chooses that moment to look down at his wine once again, and Gaia sighs. It's been like this since she became Idunn. She throws herself at Anders, and Anders pushes her away. Inevitably Axl's name comes up. It's gotten tiresome, quite frankly.

Sighing, she clears her throat pointedly to get him to look up at her once again, then says with deliberate slowness, “I want you to fuck me.”

His gaze grows heavy, desirous. In a flash, however, he stifles it. “You're in love with Axl.”

“No, I was in love with Axl. Past tense.” She locks her gaze with his, not intending to let him push her away once again. “I want _you_ to fuck me.”

“Axl's in love with you.”

“That's not your problem. So let's try this again.” She leans forward again, enunciating each word carefully to make sure her demand sinks in. “I want you to _fuck me_.”

Anders frowns. “Are you sure you're not just saying this because you're Idunn?”

“I'm not going to lie and pretend like Idunn is not a part of this. That's not fair to either one of us.”

“Do you have memories of before? When she was Helen?”

A chill dances up Gaia's spine, the alluring scent of apples growing in the apartment. “Sometimes I think I do. Deja vu in the bathroom, feeling like someone is watching me in the kitchen.” She doesn't mention the dreams she has, erotic fantasies that might just be memories, Anders fucking her over every flat surface in the apartment and even on a few that were neither flat nor comfortable. “But nothing specific, no. I mean, you don't have memories from previous Bragis, right?”

“Not that I know of. I don't even know who the previous Bragis were.” 

Gaia drums her fingertips on the tabletop as she watches Anders silently wrestle with himself. She knows how he feels about this, how much he feels like the bad guy here. She's been torn for the past two weeks between wanting to shake some sense in him and wanting to hug him. And wanting to throw him down on his bed and ride him like a broken horse, of course, but that wasn't new. “You know,” she says, her voice quiet and calm, “I talked with Axl about this before the goddess ceremony. How I didn't think it was fair, having destiny shove someone into your arms, not letting you have any choice in the matter.” She tilts her head just so until she can look into his eyes again. “But do you know what I realized not long after I came here? That I do have a choice. Just because I turned out to be Idunn rather than Frigg doesn't mean I couldn't walk right out the door and go directly back to the flat without a second thought. I could go back and make love to Axl and get married and have tons of babies.”

Anders freezes. “But?”

“But I want you to fuck me,” she says, less bluntly playful than before. When he does nothing but pick up his napkin, she sighs. “I guess I haven't been making myself cl--”

Pointedly, he drops the napkin to the floor. “Would you excuse me?” he says. 

Gaia huffs out a frustrated breath as he crouches below the table.

A moment later, she gasps as two warm hands land on her bare knees, sliding upwards. “Anders?”

He shushes her, a long patient hiss of air, then pushes her knees apart. A moment later, she hears a low whistle and smiles. She hasn't worn underwear since the day she barged in, hoping she'd catch him at a desperate moment, get him to crack. Sounds like he finally discovered her dirty little secret.

The scruff of his beard brushes against her inner thighs, a whisper of fiery sensation. She bites her bottom lip as she reaches behind her with one hand to grasp the back of the chair. 

Beneath the table, Anders smiles at the sweet sounds from above, then parts her folds and rasps his tongue over the soft flesh revealed. His dextrous tongue dives inside her, tasting the heart of her with eager abandon. He hasn't fucked anyone since Helen – too busy, too distracted, too fixated on the persistent woman who's taken up residence on his couch and refused to leave. He's been wound up tight like shipping twine, sleeping only one room away from Gaia, wanting her with supernatural need but stifling it with all-too-human guilt. 

He's not going to pretend that his cock hasn't been perpetually hard from the moment he enters his apartment after work to the minute he leaves for work every morning. Not anymore.

She writhes in her chair, one bent leg resting over one of his shoulders. Her enthusiasm spurs him on, some godly energy sparking in the air and driving him forward. Gaia whimpers as he moves, but when he pushes her chair and lifts her into his arms in one smooth movement her expression grows triumphant. Small hands latch around his neck, her grip so needy he's not sure she'll ever let go.

She dives at his mouth, her insistent little tongue parting his lips and delving inside. He groans and holds her tighter, closer, terrified he'll drop her. He walks blindly in the bedroom, not bothering to look away from her face, letting muscle memory steer him true. It's so easy to carry her this far, her body so small and light. He thinks of little birds again, of hollow bones, and wonders if that's her secret. 

In the bedroom, Anders somehow manages to lay her down on the cleared expanse of the uncovered bedspread – after Helen's body was gone, those damn pillows were one of the first things to follow her out the door – and crawl after her onto the bed. Their heated gazes lock like freshly welded iron. Anders dives in for another kiss which Gaia happily returns, his hands tugging at her dress. He hears seams pop and wishes he could feel guilty, but then Gaia pulls away long enough to yank the dress over her head and toss it aside.

He barely gets a chance to savor the subtle curve of her hips or her full dark nipples. Instead, she reaches up to undo the buttons of his shirt, fumbling with them with trembling fingers. “Just wait, let me,” Anders says, but he doesn't fare much better, and buttons fly across the room.

He's still wrestling with his shirt when Gaia starts yanking at his belt, grumbling under her breath. “At least I made this easy,” she says, shooting him a scolding glare before leaning forward to suck a lingering kiss on the bared skin of his chest. He hisses when she nips at one of his nipples, a fleeting score of teeth. 

Unable to see past her dark curls, Anders urges her hands away with a hidden swipe of his own hands before undoing the belt his own damn self and pulling everything down at once – belt, pants, underwear. He supposes he's just asking for it, his cock hard and needy and reaching for her, that he might catch the damn thing in his clothes and break it off or something. Instead, her fingers slip around it before he's gotten everything halfway down his legs, and he pauses to savor the tingling heat spreading from her touch.

“Hurry, my Lord,” she says, laughter lining her words. She strokes once, gentle but questioning.

A rough groan erupts from his throat, and with another jerk he's naked. Gaia hauls him up with a silent demand, her fingers deftly applying a condom from the nightstand to his throbbing cock, her slim legs immediately wrapping around him. Even if he wanted to get away, if thoughts of what this might do to Axl drove him scrambling from the bedroom, he doubts Gaia would unlock her ankles and let him leave. She'll cling to him with demanding force, not wanting this over with, just wanting him.

Smoothly, with one thrust of his hips, they join together. A perfect fit.

It takes Anders a breathless moment to realize Gaia is stroking his cheek, her thumb dancing over the thick growth of his beard. She smiles up at him a little smugly, says, “There, now. Was that so hard?” 

They share a look at her word choice then burst into shared laughter, and a moment later they both start to move.

Anders clearly remembers sleeping with Helen – the sparks that flew, the instant connection which twined between them. He expected to feel the same way when he finally cracked and slept with Gaia. They were, after all, the same goddess underneath it all. But nothing feels the same about fucking Gaia: not the way her fingertips press into his back, not the sweet whimpers and throaty moans she makes, not even the scent of apples growing in the air. With Helen, the apple scent was crisp and fresh, that stark odor which smacks you across the senses when you take the first bite into an apple's juicy skin. With Gaia, it warms and blends with a handful of other scents … cinnamon and nutmeg, baking dough and a splash of ginger.

Apple pie. The whole place smells like apple pie.

He chuckles and moves before Gaia can question it, thrusting his tongue into her mouth in the same rhythm as his steadily moving hips. She wriggles underneath him, her breaths harsh and ragged. His hand skims over her breast, small but firm, her nipple tightening under his palm. Helen was taller than him, like most everybody, but Gaia's so small that a protective streak blooms in his chest with every thrust of his body into hers.

His nerves dance as his speed increases, as Gaia rises over one peak and then another underneath him. He rolls over until she's above him, and her third orgasm punctuates an enthusiastic ride with a flourish. He finally comes, an intense wave of overwhelming sensation flowing through him and nearly knocking him out.

When it's over, when they've both collapsed in a tangle of sweaty limbs from the intensity of their lovemaking, Anders notices with a sickening feeling in his stomach that Gaia is crying.

“Hey,” he says, and leans forward to kiss an errant teardrop from the tip of her nose. She doesn't flinch, which he takes as a good sign. He cups her cheek with one hand and swipes away another tear with his thumb. “It wasn't that bad, was it?”

It's a joke, and one he knows full well could bite him in the ass, but it makes Gaia laugh. He takes that as a good sign. “I was just thinking,” she starts.

“That's a terrible idea,” he breaks in. “Especially if you're in bed with me.”

She furrows her brow as she glares at him, but her smile gives her away. “What I was thinking,” she says, “is that if you'd told me when we first met I'd be here with you in a few years, I would have asked how many beers you'd had.”

Anders wants to make some sarcastic joke about what he was actually doing when they first met – probably saying something crude about her tits while Axl looked on in growing horror – but it suddenly occurs to him that he can't remember their first meeting. Not clearly, in any event. He assumes it involved Axl owing him money. It's the only reason he used to visit Axl's flat before Axl turned twenty-one and all of their lives went to Hell.

“Anders,” she says, and he snaps out of it. Gaia snuggles closer, skimming her fingernails over his chest, her gaze not leaving his. “Stay here,” she murmurs. He swallows hard, and knows she doesn't mean physically.

He falls asleep to the soft stroking of her hand over his chest, her baked-apples scent, his quietly deepening guilt.


End file.
